So, last summer when the A/C had to be replaced they took the furnace out because they had to in order to replace the A/C. Both units are in the same closet and they sort of sit on top of one another. Anyway, when they were done, I went upstairs and had the guy re-light the pilot light on the furnace, because I knew it wasn't something that I would be able to do myself. It's probably do-able, but I am afraid of gas. Then a few weeks later, you may recall if you have been following this blog long, the compressor went out and that too had to be replaced. In order to do that they had to change one switch inside the closet that contains the furnace. Apparently, when they did that, the pilot light went back out. I didn't think to make sure they re-lit it then. Ugh! So, it is 67 degrees in my house and I can't turn the heater on.
I am okay today. I can survive 67 degrees with the fireplace on and a sweatshirt. But eventually I will have to turn the heater on this year. I don't even know who you call to get a pilot light lit. I think I will start off by calling the people who replaced the A/C and see if they will just come out and do it without charging me anything since it is their fault it is out anyway. But if they are going to charge me to do it, I think I want to try getting someone else to do it. After all, why should they make more money off of me?
I don't like being cold. I like being cold even less than I like being hot. I suppose I am slightly spoiled. But it is 2012 and I really don't think perfect temperatures at all times are too much to ask. I mean after all, we have figured out how to use gas and electricity to heat and cool our homes. I should be able to experience the perfect temperature of 72 degrees at all times at this point in my life. There was a time when I would have been happy to experience 52 degrees, or even 32 degrees rather than the twenties that I had to face one day with my brother, Ronnie down around Matagorda Bay.
On the day in question, I was a photojournalism student at SFA. Ronnie was still living at home. He had a beautiful black lab named Sal. Sal was a great dog. It was duck season and she was a great retriever. Ronnie had been wanting me to go hunting with him for some time to get some pictures of Sal retrieving ducks. So, during a weekend home from school, I agreed to go. First of all, a cold front had come in and it was remarkably cold for Bay City.
So, Ronnie got me up early on the morning of the big hunting trip, (it was my first and LAST duck hunting trip to be exact) at approximately 4:00 a.m. Fortunately, he already had his john boat loaded in the back of his truck and we headed to Matagorda. We got to the boat ramp area before daylight and picked the boat up out of the bed of the truck and set it in the water. I had to help with this part. I could already see that this was a lot more than I had bargained for. Ronnie put his little 8 horsepower motor on the back and Sal and I got in the boat while Ronnie moved his truck to a parking place. When Ronnie came back, he started the motor and off we went down this bayou to the place he was planning to duck hunt. Once we got out there and in the blind, the sun started coming up. It was a really pretty morning but there were no ducks around and it was damn cold.
I'm not one of those tough girls who really likes roughing it. I mean, I don't mind camping on occasion, you know if the temperature can maintain a constant 72 degrees 24 hours a day. I particularly enjoy camping in a 32 foot motor home with air conditioning, heat and indoor plumbing. I actually enjoy fishing if I can get someone to take the fish off of my line for me. But I do not suffer for the sake of outdoor activities. It just isn't me. On the morning in question, I will just go ahead and tell you that suffering took place, but it wasn't just me.
We sat out in the cold for a few hours. Ronnie had put decoys out and we quietly sat waiting for ducks. They just didn't get the memo that this was the place they were supposed to be. I saw some water fowl flying in and quickly pointed them out to Ronnie but he said that they were water turkeys and you aren't allowed to shoot them. So, we continued to sit and wait. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Ronnie gave up. More water turkeys came flying in and Ronnie decided that if he was going to get a picture of Sal retrieving on this particular morning it would have to be a water turkey. So, he shot one and Sal went and got it and I took her picture. When Sal came back even she was shivering. So, Ronnie decided it was time to leave. Me shivering, meant nothing. But if the dog was cold, we had to go.
Ronnie went to round up the decoys so that we could load them back into the boat. Before leaving the blind, he handed his shot gun to me showing me that it was on safety and told me that if I saw ducks come in, I should take it off safety and shoot. I sat there holding the gun as I watched what I assumed were more water turkeys flying in. They had almost landed when I looked out at Ronnie who was motioning furiously for me to shoot. Apparently, they were ducks. Oops! So, I tried to shoot, but the safety was on, then when I got the safety turned off, it was too late. Ronnie came back wet, cold and not too happy about my lack of knowledge concerning the difference between ducks and water turkeys, after finally getting the decoys picked up.
The three of us climbed in the boat and Ronnie shoved us off then turned to pull the rope that starts the motor (like the kind on a lawn mower) and it wouldn't start. He fiddled around with it and it still wouldn't start. We were floating around, getting further and further from land. Ronnie pulled his jacket off so that he could stick his hand down in the water to do something to the motor. It still wouldn't start. We floated past a piece of drift wood and he told me to grab it. I did. As it turned out, we apparently didn't have any oars in the boat, so when he had seen the drift wood, he had been pretty excited. Had I realized our predicament, I would have been excited too. So, he started trying to paddle us a little with the drift wood while continuing to mess with he motor. It had taken us about 20 minutes to get where we were going downstream with a motor. I didn't want to think about what it would take, going upstream using a piece of drift wood for an oar. We were all freezing, Ronnie wasn't wearing his jacket and his sleeves were wet. Sal and I were both shaking and sometimes Ronnie would pull the rope and the motor would start but then it would die again.
So, finally, he got it started and said hold on and we took off before it could die again. We were driving along as fast as the motor could move the boat. I was sitting in the front of the boat. Ronnie was sitting in back steering the motor and Sal was between us. I saw some motion out of the corner of my eye and turned to see Ronnie motioning like crazy for me to try to get his jacket. It was hard to hear anything over the motor. So, I looked down in the bottom of the boat for his jacket and Sal was sitting on it. The good news is that it was helping to dry her off while keeping her warm. I tried to get it out from under her without tipping the boat over while we drove. Ronnie finally shook his head and told me to forget it.
When we got back to the boat ramp, we all got out of the boat and Ronnie told me to hold the rope while he went and got the truck. He and Sal went up the hill and came back down in the truck. Then Ronnie and I had to lift the boat up, turn it over and put it in the truck. I was frozen and tired and hungry and not the least bit happy about any of it. While we struggled to get the boat in the truck, I said, "where's Sal?" Ronnie pointed into the truck. She was sitting in the cab of his pickup on the seat with the heater running full blast and watching us while we stood outside freezing.
All of this had taken place so that I could take pictures of that dog who was supposed to love cold wet weather and she was sitting inside the pick up, with the heater running while I was outside, working and freezing. I was not happy about any of it. I vowed that I would never go duck hunting again. I haven't. I don't understand the attraction. Yes, it was really pretty watching the sun come up out there in the marsh and it would have been even prettier if there had been ducks and I could have gotten a picture of Sal, "the wonder dog", doing her thing. But there is nothing worth going out on a marsh before daylight when the temperature is below freezing. Thanks, but no thanks! I'll just stick with my optimal 72 degrees at all times.
Have a good day! I've got to go find a sweatshirt!
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